A Sack of Organs
by Flamingo Bubbles
Summary: I'm a clone; a sack of organs. My whole life I've known that one day I will be killed in order to prolong the life of my original. But I refuse to let that happen. My name is Rin Kagamine - Act 2. I'm taking fate into my own hands.
1. Prologue

"Grandpa, grandpa, hurry up!"

The young, vibrant voice that trills through the air is in stark contrast to the setting around it. The dilapidated buildings that lean against one another for support makes for a bleak backdrop for the young girl's playing. But the girl doesn't care; she loves playing in the ruins of a city that once was.

"Slow down there dear," A haggard voice replies to her calling, "I'm not as young as I once was."

"But if we take too long, the sun will set and then we'll have to go home without any playing!" The girl calls in response.

"Listen to you!" The old man replies with a good natured laugh, "Just how old are you? Aren't you supposed to be fourteen years old?"

"Just because I'm fourteen doesn't mean I have to be a boring fogey who sits at home and does nothing with her life," She responds with a grin as she stops her skipping and waits for her grandfather to catch up with her. When he finally manages to reach the place where she is waiting, he falls heavily against a large boulder that he uses as a make-shift chair.

He gathers his breath before he gives a weary smile and rubs at one of his feet. "You've worn me out already girl! I think I'll just rest here for now and let you take care of the playing; make sure you come back by sunset, alright?"

"Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?"

"I'm old, not senile; I'll be just fine."

"Alright, I'll see you later then grandpa! I'll make sure to bring back lots of stories for you!" With a boisterous wave of her hands, the young girl turns her back on her grandfather and heads into the ruins of the once grand city.

For a while, she allows herself to simply wander the labyrinth of buildings. Her eyes flit from gray building to gray building as she hums a tuneless song to herself. She smiles to herself as she stops to pick up a few colorful shard of glass. They're nothing spectacular, but a few of them are unique colors and they'll match well with her collection at home. She stands up, dusts herself off and begins to head off to find another adventure.

But a sudden streak of movement out of the corner of her eye causes her to stop.

"What was that?" She mutters wonderingly as she looks at the doorway of the building that the object or, more than likely, animal, has gone into. With a smile and bob of her head, the young girl heads into the building without a second thought. Adventure came to find her today instead of the other way around.

The building she enters into isn't one she has ventured into before. Of course, this isn't a surprise to her; there are so many buildings in this ghost town that she's sure someone could explore it for a lifetime and still not enter every one. As her eyes explore the building, she observes the whitewashed walls and the rows of steel doors lining both sides of the room.

"This must have been a storeroom at one time or another," She says aloud, which prompts her voice to echo back.

Struck with sudden apprehension, she takes a few hesitant steps into the hallway of doors and continues to explore the building with her eyes. Once more, she sees the streak of movement. She turns instantly to see what it was, but all she sees is a singular door lying open. Taking a moment to hesitate and look at the doorway that leads back to the outside, the young girl quickly shakes off her misgivings and heads into the open door.

The room she enters into is littered with boxes. Some are stacked high on top of one another and others have been knocked over, their contents spilling onto the floor. But the young girl pays attention to none of these; her eyes are fixed on the animal that sits in the middle of the room.

It is a large tabby cat that sits regarding her with huge, emerald eyes.

She has never seen a cat in real life, the only way she even knew the thing that sits in front of her is called a "cat" is because of her collection of books at home. They often mention cats and some even provide pictures for reference.

As the girl continues to stare at the cat, it stares placidly back. The girl stands still in wonder as she knows instantly that she just has to take the cat back to show her grandfather her grand discovery.

"Hey there Mr. Cat," She says as she kneels down and holds out her hand, just like one of her books recommended she do if she ever met a cat, "What are you doing out here? Are you lost?"

The cat makes no movement, instead choosing to hold its position and stare at her as its tail swishes lazily back and forth like a metronome keeping time.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," She coaxes gently. She wishes she had some small scrap of food to entice the cat to friendship. Being as she doesn't, she settles for gently scooting forward and attempting to appear as disarming as possible.

"That's right, I just want to pet you," She says as her hand slowly inches towards the cat's head.

Suddenly, the cat raises its paw, claws drawn, and swats her hand away. With a yelp, the young girl holds her hand to her chest and jumps back in surprise as the cat jumps off the box it was perched on and darts past her. She feels her back slam up against a pile of boxes that instantly begin to rumble.

The girl doesn't have any time to respond before the pile of boxes come tumbling down on her head. She screams as corners of boxes assaulted her head and arms as she shuts her eyes tight in an attempt to weather the storm.

A moment later, the avalanche is done and the young girl coughs as the newly stirred dust enters her lungs. She takes a moment to inspect her hand that the cat attacked. She now has a new scratch mark on her hand that is bleeding slightly. Cradling her injured hand to her chest, she turns to look at the door the cat escaped through.

"You stupid cat!" She calls after the offender that has already fled.

With a sigh of resignation, the young girl detangles herself from the now collapsed mountain of boxes and begins to head for the doorway. The encounter with the cat and the boxes falling on her head has put her in a bad mood. Maybe she should just go back to grandpa…

"I don't know who's watching this or even if anyone will ever see this, but please listen."

The young girl stops in her tracks as she hears the sound of a voice behind her. She spins around instantly, expecting to see someone in the room, but she finds herself utterly alone. Believing it to be some bizarre trick of her ears, she once more turns around to be on her way.

"Please, I know you don't want to hear things from a stupid girl you don't know, but you've got to listen."

The voice continues and the young girl knows she can't just dismiss it as her over-active imagination. She turns once more towards the room. This time, as she scans the landscape, her eyes settle on a soft, blue glow that emanates from the contents of one of the boxes that just spilled onto her head. Her curiosity piqued, she heads towards the glow and finds, to her surprise, a small device.

"…A video diary?" She wonders as she draws closer.

As she finally settles so she can see the screen completely, the young girl feels herself gasp in shock.

The woman on the screen….

She-

"-got to understand," The woman on screen says as the young girl tunes in to what she is saying in the middle of her sentence, "This diary will be the only testament of what happened. They'll cover everything else up. Please, you've got to listen to my – to our – side of the story."

With trembling hands, the young girl takes the thin video diary into her hands and unconsciously grips the thin metallic siding on the screen tightly causing blood from her freshly earned cut to bleed out slightly. The woman on screen pauses for a moment as she looks uncertainly at something, or someone, next to her. In the next moment, she turns back to look at the camera and the young girl feels as if she is looking directly into her soul.

"Alright…" The woman on screen states, "Let's start. My name is Rin Kagamine – Act 2. I'm a clone."


	2. Chapter 1

"3…"

I take a step.

"2…"

Another step.

"1…"

Another step.

"0…"

The last step for the day.

"And that concludes this exercise session. All clones, please follow protocol 2."

The metallic voice from the ceiling adds in the 'please' for a show of common courtesy. It's completely pointless; as long as you give them a protocol number, they'll follow it. If you screamed at them, if you whispered is lovingly to them, it wouldn't matter. Give them a number and they'll follow.

Of course seeing as I was just able to string together all those fancy words, and the fact that I'm able to make this video diary at all, I'm obviously different from the rest.

Oh don't get me wrong, I'm definitely a clone. The cute, little brand on the back of neck makes sure everyone knows that fact.

I'm just an unintentionally special clone.

In case you've forgotten, since I'm sure you have, there are these special little chips they implant in clones' brains when they're born, or, well, the closest a clone can get to being "born". These chips are meant to subdue all thoughts and transform clones into drooling, mindless idiots. From birth, we're trained to do only one thing; follow the protocols given to us by our handlers.

All my life I've pretended to be one of the mindless ones. I learned early on that if any clone showed even the slightest spark of intelligence, they were either disposed of or experimented on to find what had gone wrong. In my life, I've watched several of what the scientists consider "defective" clones being dragged away.

The worst part? A week later a scientist would come, carrying an infant in their arms before they quickly deposited the child into a cradle. The few times that I managed to catch a glimpse of one of the baby's faces, I could feel the person they dragged off staring back at me.

I always wanted to kill to poor little bastards; they had no future in store for them except to be an organ factory. But it wouldn't have done any good. A week later, another baby would have shown up to take place of the one I had mercifully killed and I would have been disposed of.

I wasn't going to allow them the pleasure of dragging me away and replacing me with another clone.

But playing at being mindless for fourteen years was difficult and I knew -I just knew- that that day was going to be different.

I was going to test the bounds of the control they had over me.

I continued to stand there, masquerading as another one of the mindless clones. I had done it for so long that it was quickly becoming disturbing how good I was at it. I allowed my eyes to sweep the empty, white, circular room. The only thing in the room was us clones, situated in a perfect circle. We had been walking in a circle of monotonous whiteness for the past hour.

It's a little ritual the handlers like to call "exercise". They say it's to ensure the health of the clones.

Load of shit.

It's not the clones their worried about; it's the precious little organs we have situated in our bodies. As long as our hearts pumps blood, as long as our kidneys filter waste, we're "healthy" enough for them.

Sometimes when their bored, I think they like to pretend that they actually care about us. After their bored with that, I'm sure they just laugh uproariously.

But I had had enough; I was going to make my stand.

We had been told to follow protocol 2; that means don't move until the handlers show up and tell you to.

I was about to, quite literally, step outside of my protocol.

Without moving my head, my eyes wandered down to look at my feet. For the past fourteen years of my life, or what a clone can consider a life, those feet had only done whatever the protocols told them to.

But enough was enough; I was going to defy my overlord known as a protocol.

With a shallow breath to calm my nerves, I took a singular step forward.

I…I can't even begin to describe the pain that tore through my body. It was like a thousand barbs had been jammed into me and were being systematically pushed in to cause me the most pain and ensure that I stayed fully conscious to experience every moment. They went first into my lungs, then my spine, then into my arms and legs and finally, most painfully into my skull.

When the pain entered my skull, I remember everything went white and all my senses except for unbelievable pain faded away.

It burned; it burned so damn bad.

I remember hearing the sound of a far-off scream at the time. Whoever it was sounded like they were being systematically torn apart, limb-by-limb.

Looking back now, I realize the one that had been screaming was me.

An excruciatingly long while later, I felt my back slam against the hard, white floor beneath me. All I could do was stare and twitch uncontrollably as the aftereffects of what happened to me began to wear off. The pain was finished coursing through my body, but none of my limbs would respond to my commands.

They had electrocuted me; they sent about a thousand volts into my body all because I took one step out of line. As I laid there staring at that white ceiling, I realized for the first time the complete control these men had over my life. I should have realized long ago, but I was stupid and hopeful.

As this thought crossed my still recovering mind, my hearing suddenly returned in a sharp rush and a loud pop. Where before the only thing I could hear was the erratic beat of my electrocuted heart, now I could hear the low murmur of scientists hovering over me as they looked down at the girl lying flat on her back on the floor, or rather, I guess I should say as they looked down at me.

Although I knew they were there, try as I might, I couldn't get my vision to clear. Their faces were fuzzy as they hovered over me. I'm guessing it was some side-effect of the electrocution, but I'm not really sure.

"Should we just dispose of it?" Was the first thing I heard when the sound rushed back in.

Another thing these scientists like to do is refer to all of us as "it". After all, we're not people; we're simply property that they have to look over until the owners come calling for us when they need a new liver or heart.

"We can't" Another responded with a bemused shake of his head, "It's original is one of those 'First Clone Purists' that have been coming up more and more recently." First Clone Purist? They can't do away with me? That was the first I heard of either of those things, but trust me, I was sure to catalog away that information for later use. I wasn't sure how, but I was pretty sure it would be useful at some point.

"Another one of those? Their getting annoyingly common; they're just making our jobs more difficult…. Well if we can't dispose of it, what should we do?"

"Solitary confinement?" A new voice ventured into the conversation, "Perhaps it was just a spark in the chip in its brain that made its muscles react; it was a tiny step after all. There's really no danger if all it can do is take tiny steps. Maybe if we leave it alone for a while, its chip will return to normal?"

"Or maybe we need to operate and investigate its chip."

"It is an older model, so I guess it could have become defective in all the time that's passed…We could open up its head and see if we could correct the problem…" The scientist trailed off ominously, leaving the rest of the group to decide my fate. If I still had control over my thoughts, I'm sure I would have prayed to whatever god watches over clones, but my thoughts were still too scattered by the effects of the electric shock to do much besides listen to the scientist chat casually above me about my hypothetically imminent death.

Well that's not entirely true. I remember having enough mental capacity to be pissed off that they kept referring to me as "it".

"Unfortunately we don't have the right to do that. It's original has requested that we not tamper with it until the day it is needed," The scientist with the most authority added to the conversation. Lucky for me, it seemed like my original had some sort of a conscious. That or she didn't want anyone tampering with her precious second chance at life; she probably thought they would poison my, or more appropriately _her_, organs or something like that.

I believe the second of those two.

"Then it looks like solitary confinement is the only option," A scientist said as he drew back from me. I blinked a few more time and finally my vision cleared enough that I could see all the vultures that hovered over me. There were three men and one woman, each in lab coats and each wearing an expression that was tinged with discomfort.

At the time, I wanted to smile to myself. It pleased me to no end that one little step out of line caused them discomfort.

My victory was short lived as one of the scientists above my head snapped his fingers.

"Stand up," He commanded in what I'm sure he assumed was a deep and commanding voice.

He was trying to trip me up; he didn't issue a protocol number, so I wasn't supposed to respond in any way; that was another loophole they could take advantage of if they chose. If a clone was found to be dangerous enough, the scientists had the authority to override the original's wishes and do with us what they please in order to preserve the "common good". How do I know that? The scientists around here tend to have pretty loose tongues about stuff like that. We are just clones after all; it's not like we understand what they're saying.

Unfortunately for him, I had lived fourteen years following nothing but protocols, so I knew that the proper response was to do nothing. I'm pretty sure that no matter how fried my brain was, I would always remember to follow nothing but the protocols.

It was a matter of life and death after all.

Apparently my response was the right choice because all the scientists above me started murmuring disappointedly to one another. I couldn't hear the words, but I'm sure it was something along the lines of 'Damn, we don't get a new toy to operate on'. I felt pride swell in my chest at the thought that I had screwed over their plans.

"Well, it still operates enough to understand protocols when they're issued to it," One of them noted, with a distinct sound of disappointment to their tone, "Perhaps solitary confinement isn't necessary?"

"But we do have to keep close surveillance over it in case something goes wrong…what a damn pain…"

Causing them more trouble? I took it as a win at the time.

"That does sound like more trouble than it's worth…oh I know! How about we stick it in the observation room? If it's in there, people will be stopping by to see it all day; it'll be like we're observing it without actually observing it."

I felt my heart beat skyrocket at the mention of that room. I wanted to scream. I wanted to kick whoever the hell had just said that in the face. The observation room; I hated it, I _still_ hate it. Just the memory of that place…I can't- I can't- I can't-!

…Sorry…I shouldn't let my emotions get in the way of this. You have to hear the whole story.

To my horror, I heard a general murmur of consent run through the ring of scientists that still surrounded me. Apparently, they decided to dump the responsibility of watching me on to the public.

If there's one thing I hate more than scientists, it's the public at large. Although, I guess if you're watching it, you're probably part of that group. Sorry, but I have no remorse for what I said; the public is just as, if not more, twisted as the scientists that cared for me.

Well after that general consensus was reached, the scientist who had ordered me without issuing a protocol snapped his fingers once more. Either he had some weird compulsion to snap or he just thought it was a good show of his authority; whichever it was, it was pissing me off. It was enough that I had to answer to protocols, I'm pretty sure I would have killed everyone in the building if I had to start answering to finger snaps like a low-bred mutt.

"Clone 18914, follow protocol 1."

Protocol 1: Follow the individual that issued the order.

Taking care to appear like a "normal clone", I moved as stiffly as possible, it wasn't difficult to do considering the fact that I was almost killed by the thousands of volts they had sent into my system, I pulled myself from the floor and situated myself directly behind the man that had issued the order. I made sure my eyes were fixed instantly on my feet and not once did I dare to raise my head to look at the other individuals that stood around.

They were already suspicious; I didn't need to rile their fears up any more…well, at least for the time being.

Unfortunately for me, I was so wrapped up in trying to appear like all the other clones that I wasn't paying attention to the world around me. The scientist I was supposed to follow like my shadow had taken several steps without me following after him. I could hear the worried murmur of the individuals around me.

I remember my mind racing at a thousand miles a minute as I took slow, deliberate steps so I was once more situated behind the scientist. I just had to remain calm and alert; I just had to remain calm and alert. …I don't think I even know what the word "calm" means; I don't think I've ever experienced it…

"It didn't follow after him immediately like it's supposed to!" I heard a feminine voice to my right comment.

"It's chip is probably still recovering from the effects of the electric shock," The man I was following stated, "Everything will be fine once we place it under the watchful eye of the people."

"…I guess so…" The woman responded, sounding far less assured than the man who had spoken.

"Then I shall lead it to the observation room."

With his apparently grand declaration delivered, he headed for the door and I trailed after him like a silent, robotic shadow. He walked with a proud and purposeful pride that was mildly difficult to match, but I followed without complaint. Complaining would have only succeeded in getting me killed.

As we walked through the white-washed walls of the institution so many clones called home, I couldn't help but dare to let my eyes wander. The corridor we were walking down was lined with room after room that each sported an unremarkable metal door with numbers indicating the clone that lived in that specific cell. Having lived in one of those rooms for fourteen years of my life, I can tell you that they're nothing but four walls of white plaster.

Why is there any need to make a room fancy when it's just housing a pile of organs?

At the time, when the thought ran through my head, I simply accepted it as a reality of life. I was a clone and would always be viewed as nothing more than organs piled on top of organs. Now, every time that sentiment passes my mind, I just want to puke.

The only thing I hate more than scientists is the common people. Yes, that includes the person who is watching this video.

That day, we walked through several aisles of cells before passing through several security gates and ending up in a room that was slightly larger than the cell I usually lived in. The big difference was that instead of being plaster, one of the walls was made of thick glass. Beyond the glass, I could see a wide pathway that wound past the window and into another room of the building.

We had reached the observation room.

In other words, I was on display at the museum.

"Follow protocols 3 and 2," The scientist ordered as he removed himself from the doorway and allowed me to enter into the room.

3: Sit down.

2: Don't move until a handler shows up and tells you to move.

Following his commands, I sat down right where I was sitting and stared intently at the floor without blinking. I expected him to leave immediately, but instead, he knelt down in front of me and seemed to be examining me.

"Hm…I do wonder what happened that caused it to malfunction," He said, seemingly speaking to himself, "This is why I recommend we just tie them up and feed them; it's a lot less trouble than this whole letting them exercise."

For reasons I can't fully explain, this idea scared the hell out of me. I had barely any rights as it was; exercising was one of the few "human things" they allowed us clones to participate in. The thought that it might be taken away...well...

I guess it didn't matter what I thought about losing my exercise, because next thing I knew the scientist was shoving his face into mine as he examined me. He was probably looking for some evidence so he could have a legitimate reason to experiment on me. The scientist's breath was hot on my face as he continued to examine me. I wanted to scream. I wanted him to leave me alone; I wasn't his puppet to experiment on! He couldn't just do this! I was human! I _am _human!

…No, No, I know better now. I'm a clone.

I'm the furthest thing from human.

Surprisingly, a moment later the door to the room opened up and I heard the click of a woman's heels on the floor. The man instantly drew away from me as he turned to face this new intruder.

"What are you doing here?" I heard the man who had lead me here ask of this new addition.

"I'm here to drop off the clone that's scheduled to reside in the observational room," A cold, female voice answered. Even though I couldn't see whoever it was, I could tell there was a clone following her like a shadow.

"There's a different clone scheduled to be situated here," The man answered guardedly.

"Yes, I was informed of this course of action. I just thought this would be a good time to expose the public to a very interesting and enlightening concept."

I didn't like where this conversation was going; anything that was "interesting and enlightening" for the public usually meant bad news for me.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"We're going to explain the intricate differences between twins and clones and explore the paradox of twins that are clones."

At that time, only one word kept running through my head. Over and over it sounded, forming into a frenetic chant.

No. No. No. No. That one word, over and over.

"Clone 12514, follow protocol 3 and 2."

Without a second's hesitation, the clone sat down on the floor mere inches away from me. When I saw who it was, I wanted to cry or scream or run away or keep staring forever; to this day I'm not sure which.

Sitting across from me, staring emptily at an undetermined spot on the floor, was my twin brother.


End file.
